


The King and His Princess

by Walkinthegarden



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: All Starks dead save one, Alternate Universe - Future, Angst, Character Death, Death Scene, Future Fic, Gen, House Stark, House Umber, King Rickon, Mental Instability, Not Happy, Princess Sansa, Sad Ending, king in the north, the vale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-19
Updated: 2014-06-19
Packaged: 2018-02-05 09:32:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1813672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Walkinthegarden/pseuds/Walkinthegarden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rickon has become King in the North. When he hears that all but one of his sibling has been killed in one way or another, he throws everything into rescuing his last bit of family. But the gods haven't been good to the Starks for a long time, and they aren't about to start. Will Rickon be able to handle the heartbreak?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The King and His Princess

**Author's Note:**

> If there's any confusion about the dead Valemen around Sansa, I figured that at least some of them would have been loyal to her over Baelish once her identity was discovered. So they tried to protect her and he killed them.

“They’re all dead?” Rickon asks Lord Desmond Umber, his eyes hard and unforgiving. He’s not the little boy Desmond remembers meeting at Winterfell all those name days ago. Rickon is a grown man of ten and eight with shoulder length red hair and dark, hollowed blue eyes. Living those years as a wilding has changed him. It beat him and broke him and put him back together in a way that makes him unrecognizable. He’s heartless in his command and not once has Lord Desmond seen anything other then hate in his eyes.

 

It is the first time Rickon has been South of The Wall in ten name days. He has an army of ten thousand wildings at his back. They are the only ones he seems to have any affection for, but even that is cut from anger and resentment. Lord Desmond doesn’t know what to tell him. He doesn’t know what Rickon will do and therefore he doesn’t know if it’s _wise_ to tell the new King of the North that _yes_ , all but one are dead.

 

“All but one Your Grace,” Lord Desmond finally says.

 

Rickon doesn’t look up from his maps; no acknowledge that he heard at all for several minutes. “Who?”

 

“Your sister Sansa is believed to still be alive at the Vale with Lord Petyr Baelish. She was discovered a few name days ago but Lord Baelish took her hostage once her identity was discovered.”

 

“Has there been any attempt to retrieve her?” Rickon asks, still not looking up from the maps. His tone is simplistic and bored, as if such a conversation means nothing to him.

 

“Two, Your Grace, until recently it was believed she was the last of House Stark and therefore the Queen by right,” Lord Desmond replies.

 

Rickon freezes mid-reading at the words, his eyes drifting up to look at the Lord of House Umber. The air of the room grows tense as Rickon lets out a deep breath, returning his gaze to the map, and pressing both palms against the wood of the table. Lord Desmond knows immediately that he had said something wrong.

 

“Are you saying you wouldn’t have gone to save her had you known I was still alive?” Rickon asks dangerously, slowly raising his head to look the Umber Heir alive. There is a touch of insanity to his eyes, a slow burning anger that coils around his every word and decision. “Are you saying you would leave the Princess of the North in the hands of man for whom you say is responsible for the death of my father?”

 

“No Your Grace, simply that we could have been doing both,” Lord Desmond lies, ashamed with himself that he considered the daughter of the Lord his father had loved insignificant.

 

“We will go for Sansa, we will be successful, and we will spend the rest of her life keeping her safe,” Rickon hisses through thin lips as he looks back down at the map, his eyes narrowing in on the Vale.

 

It takes nearly a moons turn to get the soldiers to the Vale. Rickon leads the battle at the Bloody Gate while one of his wilding warriors heads the battle across the mountains. While the Mountains are considered impassible by the people of Westeros, the wildings cross it with little trouble (though not with ease by any means).

 

“Find Sansa!” Rickon roars as he slices his sword through a man he doesn’t know, blinking rapidly as rain pours over the battle. “Find Sansa!”

 

It takes hours before he makes it to the hall that holds the chambers of the Lord’s family. Rickon and the soldiers that followed him stop in their tracks at what they see. A man he assumes is Lord Baelish stands in a circle of dead Valemen, a dagger in his hand and pressed to a woman’s chest. She’s very beautiful, with fire red hair that falls to her shoulders and bright blue eyes that are wide with fear. Rickon thinks maybe he’s dreamed of her, and he knows she’s his sister.

 

“Rickon?” she asks, her eyes wide, but there is an ice to them that rivals his own.

 

While Rickon is focused purely on Sansa, on the sister he’s not seen for many name days, Lord Desmond is focused on the small strips of skin revealed to the eye. The skin is purple and there are raised lines across her hand from what he knows from experience to be caused when one’s hand is shattered.

 

“He won’t let her go Your Grace,” one of the soldiers says from Rickon’s left.

 

“He will if he wants to make it out alive,” Rickon replies smoothly, it’s the only time Lord Desmond has ever see him play the game of politics.

 

“You aren’t going to let me live,” Lord Baelish replies, a look of acceptance flickering in his eyes.

 

“No!” Rickon yells as the former protector of the Vale sinks his dagger into Sansa’s chest. Sansa’s eyes grow wide as blood slowly seems down the front of her green gown. Rickon falls next to her while his bannermen slice through Lord Baelish’s neck.

 

With Baelish dead, the bannermen turn to look at their King, on his knees with Sansa cradled in his arms. Her head rests slack against Rickon’s upper arm, her eyes wide with shock and disbelief. Her body lays fallen against him, her only movement her shaking hands.

 

“Sansa, no,” Rickon sobs, tears pooling in his eyes as he stares down at his sister, his last remaining family.

 

“R-Rickon?” she says, her voice higher then he remembers.

 

“I’m here Sansa, I’m here,” he sobs, tears spilling down his cheeks.

 

The bannermen watch, their hearts breaking at the scene of their King and their Princess. It is the first time they’ve seen any emotion from their King. They both suddenly look like children again, the ones many of them had met at Winterfell. Memories of sweet Sansa spinning around the dance floor with Rickon in her arms wash over them.

 

“Don’t go Sansa, please,” Rickon begs her, his tears falling onto her pale cheeks.

 

“I-I’m s-sorry, Rickon,” she moans out, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

 

“Sansa… please,” their King whispers, cradling his sister’s head as he begins to rock her.

 

“I love y-you, Rickon,” she whispers. Her body goes lax in his arms and the bannermen bow their head in sadness as their King sobs into her hair, screaming for the injustice.

 

Many years later, the people say when Sansa died, Rickon’s heart died with her. He left the rule of his kingdom to his politically savvy wife, and turned over his crown the day his son turned of age. They call him a wilding, an islander, and many other names. They say the only anchor he has to the world around him was his family, the hope of one day reuniting with them. When his hope died in his arms he snapped, turned vicious. The day she died he cut through the Valemen like a madman, letting only the ones people told him had loved and protected his sister live. They say the pack lives while the lone wolf dies, and when the bannermen look to their King, they can’t help but realize just how true the words are.

 

Because Rickon Stark hasn't been _alive_ since the day Sansa died.


End file.
